


The Daily Hum, and Tribal Drums

by Rixxy8173571m3W1p3



Series: The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick [9]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Cake, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Costumes, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hot Chocolate, Inspired by Real Events, Leet, Makeup, Masks, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Paperwork, Partly based on real life events, Phone Calls & Telephones, Singing, Skirts, Tattoos, Tribal Garments, Trolley Rides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 02:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13471518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3/pseuds/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3
Summary: In this fic, the reader just wants to relax after a stressful morning dealing with paperwork





	The Daily Hum, and Tribal Drums

You hated paperwork almost as much as you hated hospitals, and baby gaps. It was either this form or that form, and the incorrect this or that. If only you lived in the mountains somewhere, beyond cities, past any sort of recognizable dwelling, where it would be just you, and perhaps a companion, and lived out the rest of your days listening to the music of the forest. Of course, these were the musings of your writer's mind at work, trying to craft for itself a calming environment at from the monotony of white walls, and droll speeches of legalities.

With a huff, you waited as you were told in the waiting area. Oh, you were glad that dad wasn't around to have to deal with this foolishness which he had unknowingly forsaken you with. These last several years, you had dealt with the various complications involving the deed for your house, dad's life insurance, and taxes. You were a good, law abiding citizen, so what the hell was with all the paperwork? You figured there must have been a screw up somewhere, or perhaps your filed forms had become someone's confetti.

Either way, it was going to be a long day.  
  
Lobby after lobby, office spaces, terrible coffee, and endless rugs, it was a day of indoor nothingness which left you annoyed, and with a dull ache of anxiety. The only highlights of your day were your great jokes, the pat down by security, and the one spider who hung on for dear life in the corner of one of the bathrooms. When it was all over, you walked around downtown, and tried to calm yourself. You were slightly hungry, and thought about grabbing a cup of hot chocolate, but the line to that one place was too long. Ugh, where was a ray of sunshine when you needed one?

* * *

You rode the trolley down a few blocks, mostly to kill time. It was set to be an uneventful ride, and you weren't really paying attention to anything, or anyone in particular. You had your notebook out, jotting down the outline of a story idea you just got. The people around you were off no consequence, neither was the the driver or your surroundings, until the trolley got stuck behind a UPS truck. Perhaps the driver was bored, or wanted tips, but the moment he started to sing an Elvis tune, you looked through your wallet to find a few dollars for the tip box.

After his second song, you stopped nearby a little coffee shop.

It didn't seem as pretentious as the other place, and seeing as it wasn't crowded, you wondered if Zeta-7 would enjoy this place. The color scheme inside reminded you of a daycare center. A quick glance at the menu reminded you that these people must have been professionals, but it still wasn't as intimidating as some other coffee places tended to be. Hmm, no matter where Zeta-7 currently was, it would soon be break time, and you were willing to give this place a try; perhaps he'd like to join you.

Rick wasn't picky when it came to coffee, but you knew there were certain places he avoided. Claustrophobic, cramped, crowded places were a no go. Yet, even if he didn't get out much, except for the places the citadel sent him to work, you thought this laid back little shop with its quirky furniture, and yummy looking cakes would suit him. Oh, but you might be bothering him again with something so trivial. You stared down at your cellphone, and went over the reasons why you should and shouldn't call, but in the end you did.

When he answered, you heard what sounded like drumming, and you asked Rick if he could meet you at the coffee shop during his break. He hesitated at first, but after a random Rick yelled alcohol fueled obscenities in the background, he agreed.

* * *

Books lined the furthermost wall. Many were cheap copies of the classics, others were well loved almanacs, encyclopedias, magazines, and a few dictionaries. You picked a few you'd thought would be good, but replaced them when you couldn't get past the first page. Usually, you picked your books like how you preferred your men; well read, a little worn, and full of heart.

Bulk sized bags of coffee beans sat in the corner nearest the register. And on top of the counter were muffins, cookies, and a tempting coconut cake. The cake had to be good, considering how moist the layers looked, and the cookies must have been yummy, or the muffins soft. It was hard to choose, considering Rick enjoyed most sweets, but in the end you went for the coconut cake.

For drinks, the barista was able to make you a soy hot chocolate, and a cup of coffee for Rick. Served in cups with cute little phrases, that sat on top of dishes, which had been hand painted by children from the nearby elementary school, you felt your spirits rising. The table you chose had a dizzy, spiral pattern, with matching chairs. In a few minutes, Zeta-7 would show up, and you'd made sure your hair looked fine, before going back to sit and wait. Of course, you wouldn't have to wait long, but while waiting, you watched people walk by.

In this district, you tended to see higher class folk. Well dressed ladies with their Louis Vuittons, men in business suits carrying their overpriced coffees, fashionable young people, and the scattered regular folk. For the most part you didn't belong in this city, but it didn't matter if you didn't drive a fancy sports car, or carry a designer purse; in this little odd ball café, you seemed to fit in. You chatted a little with the staff, sharing thoughts on literature, music, and food. You had come to find out that this place was famous for its laid-back approach, especially in the city where they were surrounded by skyscrapers.

It was understandable, everyone needed to run away every once and a while, and it made you laugh a little.

When the bell above the door rang, you raised your head to see someone had come in. A tall man, walking barefoot, with a full grass skirt, henna tattoos which decorated his arms in flowery, geometrical patterns, in what appeared to be a long mathematical equations was heading your way. About his shoulders was the skin of a three headed fox, and a cape made from what appeared to be chainmail in the shape of stars, flowed down his back. You knew there was a theatre nearby, and it's actors liked to eat at the popular restaurants, but you had a feeling you knew this guy.

It wasn't until he sat down, chuckled nervously, and lifted the smiling sun mask, that it hit you; this was Zeta-7. How amusing that the destinies were to send you the bright, and ever so delightful guy of your affections, with a literal sun mask. And to see his smiling face, covered in a shimmering, galaxy blue face makeup, was heartwarming. The earrings he wore looked like tiny galaxies, and to your astonishment they were, though he was only wearing them for safekeeping until the case he was currently working on was resolved.

Considering it was a Monday, business at the café was slow, which was to Ricks advantage, since the staff didn't seem to mind his state of dress; neither did you. However, to protect him, you lied and told them Zeta-7 was trying to stay in character for his latest role. Rick apologized for his appearance, but he had just come from inside a microverse battery, where one of the residents had come into an altercation with a Rick who wasn't supposed to be there. His bangles, carved from a fragrant wood, were but concealed devices, each with a different function you weren't allowed to know about.

You worried someone would walk in, and rant about Ricks social, and cultural inappropriateness, but it never happened.

Rarely had you seen him in these costumes they made him wear in special missions, but it was a treat to listen to the clatter of his bracelets, smell a whiff of the incense he had burned, or to watch him try to sit without letting anything show throw the thickness of his skirt. Carefully, he sipped his coffee, leaving but tiny smudges in the rim. You didn't want to stare, well at least not more then usual, but there was something compelling about this look, like you were watching a different version of him. You couldn't hold his hand since you didn't want to mess up the sprouting lotuses tattoos shaped from repeated phrases written in leet. Neither did you want to accidentally set of one of the devices disguised as rings.

Yet, you two linked pinkies and you asked how his day was.

From his sighs, you figured it must have been frustrating, more so than yours. Some time ago, you had learned, that unless asked, Rick would refrain from readily telling you how bad things had gone, or of the vile things the other Ricks tried to do to him when they were inebriated. This time, it wasn't so much how the Ricks were treating him, but how they were handling the situation. In more or less words, once the other Ricks had seen the reason for the altercation, they weren't in a rush to solve the case. To you, it meant you probably weren't going to see him for a few days, unless it was during his break, or for a few seconds to hug you before leaving.

Neither of you were very happy about this, but he wasn't going to let this ruin your day. There were good things, like the new species of flora and fauna he had discovered while searching for firewood. And there was the moment of mutual understanding among the Ricks when he stopped them from eating a poisonous fungus one of the other Ricks thought was edible. You were proud of him, and he was relieved to hear that your day while stressful, wasn't as bad as you thought it was going to be.

When you finished your drink, you set about touching up your lipstick. You giggled when you noticed how entranced he was when you reapplied it, though this time in his favorite shade of red. Using your mirror, Rick, discovered to his disappointment, that he had smudged some important markings which protected him. Turns out, the creatures from the particular microverse he had come from were afraid of mathematical equations, but were respectful of numbers and various associated symbols.

If it wasn't already obvious, Zeta-7 was playing the character of a medicine man of sorts, speaking with the creatures, working as mediator, healer, and translator. You weren't an artist, but you had steady hands, so you offered your assistance in any way you could. The areas where the mask had come in contact with the skin were the trouble areas. You touched up where his makeup had faded a little. His brow which was covered in small crystals, you glued some more in the areas where they had fallen off.

Around his eyes, was silver eyeliner, which you were careful not to get in his eyes. With his lashes, you touched up the top lashes with white mascara, the bottom lashes with yellow. Then, you told him to pucker up, so you could apply his lipstick evenly. Those brilliant, laughing, electric blue eyes followed your movements, eating up all this attention, and you felt your breath caught. There was something so attractive, so pure about a guy who wasn't ashamed to wear coral blue number 2 lipstick.

It was admirable that he had taken on a role which might have made him initially uncomfortable, but had given him the freedom to do great things, while doing his job. At times, you weren't exactly sure what his job was, but it seemed he had to do an awful lot. Being away from civilized society, he had lost some weight, leaving his cheeks more gaunt. Poor man, if only he would just leave that job, but it wasn't your decision to make. Still, you expressed your concerns.

Pained, he made promises to make it up to you any way he could. With all the frantic gestures of his apology, you caught sight of the repetitive phrases written in the insides of his arms. In a low voice, he whispered that it was a phrase which had come from your last book.

! 1!\\\/3 +0 10\\\/3, 4|\\\||) 134|2|\\\|3|) +0 1!\\\/3

1 l1v3 70 l0v3, 4nd l34rn3d 70 l1v3

Both variations of the phrase which translated to:

I live to love, and learned to live.

You were impressed, as well as surprised that being the genius he was, would actually read one of your lame romance novels. You tended to be critical of your works, more critical than the online commenters. Honestly, he liked it so much, he had written a dissertation on why he thought it had been one of your best. As hard as it was to believe, you accepted his encouragement, and would read the thesis when you got home.

* * *

The equations, when solved gave numbers, these numbers formed words, these words were either scattered or linked together to form phrases, some of which were in Spanish, or Latin. It was fascinating trying to decode them, but you weren't a math wiz, and you'd be there for hours if it weren't for Rick explaining their significance. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself adding touches of emoticons, hearts, and little designs which contained the accepted symbols. When your had finished touching up the markings in his inner palms, you stood back and looked him over.

The barista agreed that Rick needed a little more something to balance it all out. You couldn't put your finger on it either, but there was something missing that would complete the look. When you searched your makeup bag, you found your shimmer powder. Perhaps it could work.

With a kabuki brush, you applied it to his arms, collarbone, highlighted his cheeks, and forehead. Now that you thought about it, he had a sort of Avatar kind of glow. After you had finished, you took a few pics, even if he fidgeted in his seat. Zeta-7 wasn't fond of his looks in comparison to other Ricks, but you took pics whenever you could. If he didn't think he was attractive because a bunch of Rick's told him he wasn't, then they were the ones that needed their eyes checked.

Your darling boyfriend, the adorkable,plant loving, scientist, you regarded him with loyal, tender affection. And while the fairer sex did not look upon him with libidinous awareness, you were going to remind him of how attractive and alluring he was. You had an intense awareness of him, conscious of every breath he took, of his mobile features, recognized every nuance in his reflections. For your part, you wanted to remember these charming, precious, captivating moments, and remember him like this, as the sweet creature who lit up your life.

Seeing as his hair was a little messy, but nonetheless untouched, you ruffled it, giggling as he hummed like a happy feline. You moved your chair closer, just to be near him, despite the obvious disgust from the only other customer. Who cared about what other people thought, for these moments, and Zeta-7s companionship had become your delight. Being this close, he could show you some of the pictures he had taken.

You were enchanted by the size and coloration of the trees, of the zoomed picture of the soil, and sand grains. It was amusing to watch the short video of a Rick, who was wrestling with a sand worm, while Zeta-7 played a flute to try to calm it. How lovely, that he could add worm tamer to his skill set. When he put his phone away, you asked him why he hadn't finished his cake.

The dessert itself, had been very fine, one of the nicest Rick had ever had, but he pushed the plate your way, telling you he wanted you to have it, since the last bite always tasted the best. Damn it, it should have been illegal to be this cute in public. You turned your face away, trying to hide your blush. Honestly, he had just made you so freaking happy, but you weren't sure what to say, or do with yourself.

Zeta-7, mistaking your silence for displeasure, started to apologize, but you shook your head. You couldn't find the right words, they all seemed to come out as a jumbled mess. With furrowed brow, he asked if you needed to take your medication. No, you said, all you just needed was a few minutes to collect yourself. Every time you thought you knew him, he'd do something which worked you up, and made you dumbfounded.

It wasn't necessarily bad, you just felt emotional.

This man, who was impossibly sweet, was a treasure, one of a kind, and you didn't deserve him. Yet, he appeared to love you, so you didn't see why you had to lack confidence. You inched closer, and whispered in his ear, telling him that he was being too adorable for his own good. And with a toothy grin, he thanked you for the kind words.

Reassured by his soft words, the relief you felt made you tear up. The other customer scoffed on his way out, but you ignored him. It hurt when people just didn't get what it was you had with Rick. It didn't matter if his eyes didn't always line up, or if he wore blue eyeshadow way better than you could, but this man was beautiful. You loved him inside and out, and it didn't seem like there was ever enough time when you two were together.

Before you knew it, his cellphone rang, and he frowned knowing it was time to go. With a soft smile, Zeta-7 hooked your pinky, and made promise to call later. And you helped him replace his mask, and he set the coordinates on his portal gun. Before he left, you thanked him for adding a little sunshine to your day, and sealed your promise with a kiss upon the masks lips, to be ready to answer your phone whenever he did happen to call.


End file.
